


kitty corner from paradise

by spacecar



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-07 02:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17357273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecar/pseuds/spacecar
Summary: There’s a time and a place to discuss the fact that you and your best friend not only slept together but gotmarriedand the Las Vegas airport probably isn’t the best place to unpack all of that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A person with more self-control would probably do some editing or at least finish this before they posted it, but I am not that person. I just really love tropes a lot.
> 
> Title is from Ride by Dessa.

Becky wakes up in a hotel bed to Charlotte’s phone ringing on the other side of the room. Nothing about that is especially out of the ordinary.

The splitting headache is a little weirder. It’s been a minute since she’s taken any stray punches and she’s pretty sure she’s not concussed.

She’s definitely sure she wishes Charlotte would answer her damn phone.

“Char,” she grumbles, face still mostly buried in her pillow. “Charlie. Make it stop.”

She’s not really expecting the muffled groan to come from right next to her, but it’s not the first time they’ve fallen asleep in the same bed. She cracks an eye open, wincing as the light hits them. She finds herself staring directly at a barely-shifting head of blonde hair.

“ _Charlotte_ ,” she repeats, sending an elbow in her friend’s direction. It lands between bare shoulder blades, which, okay, _weird_.

“Fuck,” says Charlotte. “Fine.” She stands up, and suddenly the entire chain of not-quite-unusual occurrences gets a whole lot weirder, because—

“Why are you naked?” Becky asks, squinting at her friend’s bare chest. There’s a lot going on there that Becky’s not ready to deal with, like, _at all_. She pulls back the duvet that’s covering her and yeah, that’s a problem. “Follow up question, why am I naked?”

Charlotte frowns but she doesn’t say anything as she pads across the room to her phone. She also doesn’t put on a top, or pants, or do anything that could possibly help make Becky feel less weird. Becky looks around the room as Charlotte grabs her phone and sits at the foot of the bed. Her hoodie from last night is lying on the floor and she leans over the edge to grab it and toss it at Charlotte’s back. “Make yourself decent, yeah?” She tugs the duvet around herself a little tighter and decides to give standing up a try. Her head spins and for a moment she’s sure she’s going to throw up right there in the middle of the room, but it passes.

Charlotte’s frowning at her phone but Becky’s too busy trying to hunt down her shirt to ask. It crosses her mind, briefly, that this should probably be weirder than it is, but the silence is almost companionable. Becky spots the tank top she was wearing last night under the bed and weighs the pros and cons of bending down to pick it up.

“Becks.” Charlotte finally speaks. She calmly sets her phone down next to her and pulls on Becky’s hoodie. Still no pants, but it’s a start. “Where’s your phone?”

“Great question,” Becky says, tugging a pair of sweatpants up over her hips. The jeans she put on after last night’s show are lying on the floor and she picks them up, patting the pockets for her phone. No dice. “Check the hoodie you’re wearing.”

Charlotte shoves her hands into the pockets of Becky’s hoodie - her _favorite_ , and she’s never going to be able to wear it again without thinking of this and losing her damn mind - and pulls out Becky’s iPhone. She glances at the screen and cringes, then tosses it to her. “You might wanna sit down,” Charlotte says, standing up. 

Becky doesn’t sit. She’s pretty sure Charlotte’s avoiding her eyes, and they’re just not going to mention the fact that they woke up in bed together? Sure. Okay. She can roll with that. She looks at her phone and sees about a million notifications. Text messages from her brother, Sasha, Bayley, half the WWE roster. Seven missed calls from her mom. A missed call from at least one _McMahon_ , christ. She eyes them all nervously for a moment before opening the group chat cleverly named with four horse emojis.

 **Sasha (6:37 AM)** : What the fuck did you guys do?

The message is followed by a link to a wrestling website. Becky frowns, then scrolls up hoping for for some context.

 **Becky (1:04 AM)** : we’re get  
**Becky (1:04 AM)** : gettign  
**Becky (1:05 AM)** : cna you get to vegas tonight??????  
**Becky (1:05 AM)** : charlotte says we can’t go to elvis  
**Charlotte (1:08 AM)** : It’s tacky  
**Becky (1:26 AM)** : wish you were here!!!!

The next three texts are all picture messages, all from Becky. There’s a blurry selfie of her and Charlotte, clearly drunk, laughing into the camera. There’s a picture of an Elvis impersonator from behind. And there’s a picture of Becky and Charlotte, taken by a third party, standing in front of the Elvis impersonator and kissing.

Becky sits down.

“Yeah,” says Charlotte. She’s picked her phone back up now, and when Becky looks over she sees that she’s scrolling through her Twitter mentions. “We might have a problem.”

She opens the group chat back up and clicks Sasha’s link. “Charlotte Flair and Becky Lynch spotted at Vegas wedding chapel after having it out at latest WWE pay-per-view event,” Becky reads out loud. Charlotte’s definitely read it already, but she feels like she needs to say something. “Fuck. We’re supposed to be feuding.”

Charlotte laughs, bright and surprised, and it’s the best Becky’s felt since she woke up. “That might be the least of our problems, babe.” The endearment, not at all uncommon, makes Becky’s heart twist. She’s opening her mouth to speak when Charlotte’s phone rings again. “It’s my dad.”

Becky groans. “Oh, Ric’s gonna kill me.”

Charlotte grimaces. “He might consider you an improvement, actually.” She looks like she’s considering declining the call but at the last second hits the button to answer it. “Hey, Dad,” she says, standing up and walking to the bathroom. Becky tries not to stare as she closes the door. It’s not an especially big hoodie on _Becky_ and on Charlotte, well…

Becky flops back on the bed with a sigh. The room spins. She looks at her phone, considers maybe calling her mom back or letting Sasha and Bayley know that they’re still alive.

She doesn’t do either of those things.

She’s not quite ready to think about what this might mean for her career, _their_ careers. She’s fought so hard to get to where she is and her brain isn’t willing to start processing how they might have changed things.

All Becky can think about is what this means for her and Charlotte.

Because Charlotte and Becky are close, right? Truly best friends, always together outside of the ring even when they’re tearing each other apart in it. They’ve been through a lot together, seen each other through everything, and out of all of the things that Becky’s not prepared to lose, her friendship with Charlotte is… it’s up there.

There’s also some pesky, inopportune, not-strictly-platonic _feelings_ to contend with, but she’s a pro at repressing those by now. Women’s Champion of Pretending Not to Have Feelings for Charlotte Flair. No one’s going to be stealing that particular belt from her anytime soon.

Becky’s not sure how long she lies there, eyes closed, holding still so the room doesn’t spin. She doesn’t hear the bathroom door open, doesn’t hear Charlotte come back into the room. But she feels the bed beside her dip and feels the warm weight of her best friend next to her. She curls against her instinctively as Charlotte’s arm comes up to wrap around her shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay, Becks,” Charlotte whispers into her hair. Becky knows that she’s right.

She has to be right.

 

 

Becky’s never been more hungover in her life. They’ve been summoned to the WWE offices like children being sent to the principal. The idea of getting on a plane makes her stomach turn.

“If I die right here will you make sure my body gets back to my mother?” Becky asks Charlotte. They’re waiting for their flight to board and Becky’s not convinced she’s not going to die stretched out on a row of airport chairs. Next to a slot machine, no less, because it’s Vegas. “I always thought Vegas might be the death of me.”

Charlotte huffs out a laugh and reaches over to pull Becky’s hood up over her head and cinch the drawstrings. “No one’s dying, drama queen.”

Becky scrunches her face but doesn’t bother opening her eyes. She knows there’s sun shining through the windows and she’d rather keep it out of her retinas, thanks. She blindly reaches back and hits the back of her hand against Charlotte’s thigh half-heartedly. “How are you still sitting upright?”

Charlotte grabs Becky’s hand and laces their fingers together. Becky feels better immediately. “If I stay vertical and stay very still my head doesn’t feel like it’s still sloshing around in a vodka tonic.”

“How much trouble do you think we’re in?”

Becky feels Charlotte’s sigh more than she hears it. “Honestly? I have no idea. We kind of botched the whole… thing they had going, you know?”

“The Man botches nothing,” Becky says. She’s shooting for cocky but a wave of nausea hits her and when Charlotte laughs again she knows she missed the mark. “Fuck.”

“My dad thinks they’ll try to use it, write it into a story.” Charlotte’s voice is soft.

Becky’s pretty sure he’s right. She’s also pretty sure she hates the idea. Her friendship with Charlotte had always more or less been fair game and they’ve used it to their advantage. They’ve used it to build a feud no one will be forgetting anytime soon. But the idea of this, whatever it is, being used for entertainment? The idea of her feelings for Charlotte being used for entertainment? She’s pretty sure the queasy feeling in her stomach has nothing to do with her hangover this time. “Hmm,” she says, noncommittal. But she squeezes Charlotte’s hand and feels relieved when Charlotte squeezes back. “We should probably—“

“Our flight’s boarding,” Charlotte says suddenly, standing up and dropping Becky’s hand. Which is for the best, probably, because there’s a time and a place to discuss the fact that you and your best friend not only slept together but got _married_ and the Las Vegas airport probably isn’t the best place to unpack all of that.

Becky wishes it felt less like Charlotte was avoiding the subject entirely, though.

 

 

Charlotte spends the entire flight asleep on Becky’s shoulder, but Becky spends the entire flight watching Charlotte. She knows, she can feel, that things are going to change once they land. She silently wills the plane to stay in the sky for as long as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was just supposed to be a fun dumb romp but here we are I guess!

“Ladies,” Vince begins once they’re seated across from him. “Care to tell me what happened?”

 

 

_Becky waits until they’re backstage to turn and wrap her arms around Charlotte as tight as she can. “That was amazing!” She’s practically shouting but she can’t bring herself to care._

_“You were amazing,” Charlotte says emphatically. She rests her chin on top of Becky’s head for a moment. “Was that the best one yet? That felt like the best one yet.”_

_“Match of the Year’s already in the bag,” Becky agrees. “It’s almost unfair that they’re gonna have to keep giving it to us.”_

_“Maybe everybody else just needs to step up,” Charlotte says. She squeezes Becky’s arms once before letting go of her. “I need to go talk about how mad I am that you beat me. But we should celebrate, right?”_

_Becky tries to school the scowl back on her face and ends up grinning instead. “Mini bar?” There’s probably a conversation to be had about how they’re in_ Vegas _, a city that’s basically a giant playground for adults, and all she feels like doing is going upstairs and hanging out with Charlotte in their pajamas. She’s not gonna examine it too much._

_Charlotte nods. “Gimme an hour.”_

_Becky completes her cursory interviews - of course she knew she was going to win, she’s definitely not interested in a reconciliation, absolutely she’s ready to slap the head directly off of any and everyone stupid enough to challenge her - and drags herself to the elevator. The pain starts to set in as the adrenaline wears off and she leans heavily against the cool metal wall. She feels good. She feels great. She feels desperate for a shower._

_The room’s still empty when she gets there. She showers fast, changes into jeans and a soft old t-shirt, and starts channel surfing while she waits for Charlotte to show up. She snags a bottle from the mini bar while she’s at it. They’ve got a couple of mostly free days coming up and she still feels like she’s on top of the world. As good a time as any to indulge a bit._

_She’s settled on some action movie and she’s lying on her stomach giving someone a hard time on Twitter when she hears the soft whirring of a key card in the door. Charlotte walks and drops her bag on the floor._

_“Are they getting chattier? I swear they’re getting chattier,” she says, flopping onto the bed next to Becky with a sigh. “They all just wanted to ask me about you.”_

_Becky smirks. “‘Course they do,” she agrees. “Everyone wants a piece of The Man.”_

_Charlotte nudges Becky with her elbow. “Uh-huh,” she says, laughing. “Sure.”_

_“Also, you stink,” Becky continues. “Go take a shower and then come indulge in this truly mediocre liquor selection with me.”_

_“Rude,” Charlotte says, rolling into Becky before hopping off of the bed. Becky huffs indignantly._

_“Nullified my whole shower right there,” she grumbles. Charlotte’s laugh rings out through the bathroom before she closes the door. Becky grabs her phone again and watches the reactions to her tweet roll in with a satisfied smile._

_By the time Charlotte’s out of the shower, the movie is over and Becky’s powered though enough of the bottle that she feels a pleasant buzz._

_“Time to play catch up,” she says, handing the bottle off to Charlotte. Charlotte takes a deep pull and then grimaces._

_“”Mediocre” was giving this a little too much credit,” she says, but she takes another drink and props herself against the headboard. “What are we watching?”_

_“Dunno,” Becky shrugs. “Nothing good, I’m sure.” Becky snags the remote and mutes the TV. Charlotte hands her the bottle back silently and she takes it. They’ve made a pretty good dent in it already and Becky’s trying to decide how much they’ll regret just polishing it off. A lot, probably. Go big or go home. “If we drink all of this but we make vodka tonics with it first, it stops being sad, right?”_

_Charlotte wrinkles her nose a little but nods. “We’re both too old to succumb to alcohol poisoning from middle-shelf vodka so I’d say yes.” She nudges Becky. “Make me a cocktail.”_

_Becky snorts. “Ask nicely, your majesty.” She’s already standing up and making her way over to the mini bar._

_“Please,” Charlotte says, overly sweet, as Becky produces a bottle of tonic water from the fridge._

_When Becky turns back to the bed, Charlotte’s settled herself under the duvet. “Cozy,” Becky says, mostly to distract herself from the tight feeling in her chest._

_Charlotte lifts the corner of the blanket up in invitation. Becky hands Charlotte her drink, ignores the very loud, very insistent alarm bells going off inside of her head, and climbs in next to her. “Cheers,” she says, clinking their glasses together._

_“To what?”_

_“To being the best damn wrestlers this company’s got?” Becky shrugs. “To our inevitable WrestleMania showdown?”_

_Charlotte hums thoughtfully. “To us,” she says decisively._

_Becky swallows thickly around the lump in her throat. “To us,” she agrees, taking a sip of her drink and leaning back against the pillows._

_“Hey,” says Charlotte. “You know there’s no one I’d rather be doing this with than you, right?”_

_Becky laughs. “What, getting drunk in a hotel bed instead of taking advantage of what the city of Las Vegas has to offer?”_

_Charlotte whacks her on the arm gently. “Stop it, I’m serious.”_

_“I know,” Becky says. She leans her head against Charlotte’s shoulder. Charlotte leans back, tucking their heads together. “Me too. No one but you.”_

_By the time they’ve taken down most of the bottle, they’ve turned the TV back on and settled into watching some awful rom-com they found. Becky’s leaning heavily against Charlotte, the alcohol making her sleepy and content. On screen, the protagonist is walking down the aisle in a white monstrosity of a dress. “Kinda think I’d like that,” Becky says thoughtfully. “Not the dress, obviously. But the wedding, marriage, the whole thing. You know?”_

_Charlotte laughs derisively. “Sure do.”_

_Becky grimaces. “Fair enough. Not like I’ve got anyone on deck to make that happen anyway,” she says, resting her head on Charlotte’s shoulder._

_Charlotte hums softly. “I’d marry you, Becks,” she says decisively._

_“Yeah?”_

_Charlotte nods. They’re so close that Becky’s head bobs a little with the movement. “Before I’d marry anyone else,” she says._

_Becky can feel the alcohol buzzing through her body and it’s making her daring. “You wanna put your money where your mouth is, Flair?”_

_“What?”_

_“There’s a chapel downstairs,” Becky says. She means for it to come out sounding like a dare but it ends up sounding gentle even to her own ears. Like a suggestion. Like a_ question _. “Pretty sure they’ve got an Elvis impersonator, even.”_

 _“Absolutely not,” Charlotte says. Becky recoils, hurt, but Charlotte continues. “No Elvis. Our wedding has to be_ classy _, Becky.”_

_Becky pulls out her phone. “Hey Siri,” she says, “what’s the classiest wedding chapel in Las Vegas?”_

_Charlotte laughs, burying her face in Becky’s shoulder. Becky holds up a map on her phone triumphantly._

_“It’s so far,” Charlotte says, squinting at the screen. “I don’t wanna walk that far. My ribs hurt.”_

_Becky ghosts a hand over Charlotte’s torso, frowning. “‘M sorry,” she says. Charlotte shakes her head._

_“Not your fault,” she insists. She grabs Becky’s hand and wraps it in her own instead. “Occupational hazard.”_

_Becky squeezes Charlotte’s fingers once. Her chest feels tight. “Right,” she says, looking at her phone again. “So no walking.”_

_“Something close,” Charlotte agrees._

_Becky goes back to googling. “Christ, we’ve got options. We’ve got about a million options.”_

_“Becky,” Charlotte sounds so distressed that it makes Becky look up from her phone in alarm. “We can’t get married without Sasha and Bayley.”_

_“Could they get here? Where are they right now? I bet they could get here.” It takes Becky a few tries to open the group chat one-handed, but eventually she manages. “They’ll wanna see Elvis.”_

_“No Elvis,” Charlotte says, drawing out the ‘o’._

_“It’ll be so classy, though,” Becky insists. “In his nice white suit.”_

_Charlotte’s been shaking her head since Becky mentioned Elvis again but she stops at the thought of a suit. “You should wear a suit,” she says. “You’d look so good in a suit.”_

_Becky thinks about what’s in her suitcase. “The best I can do is jeans,” she says. “Would you marry me even if I was in a hoodie, Charlotte?”_

_Charlotte pretends she’s thinking about it but Becky can see the tiny smile on her face. “I’d marry you in anything,” she says earnestly. “I’d marry you in nothing.”_

_“Hey now,” says Becky. “Save it for the honeymoon, tiger.”_

_Becky can’t tell if either of them are kidding anymore. She’s pretty sure she’s not. The dregs of the bottle they’d polished off are also pretty sure she’s not. Charlotte’s looking at her critically._

_“Let’s do it,” she says. Right. That answers Becky’s question nicely._

_“Yeah,” Becky agrees, grabbing Charlotte’s hand and tugging her towards the door. “Fuck it, yeah, let’s do it.”_

_They’re the only ones in the elevator on the ride down and Becky’s grateful. Some corner of her brain that isn’t soaked in vodka knows that half the company is staying in this hotel. It knows that they’re technically not really supposed to be out palling around together. And it knows, definitively, that this is a bad idea._

_The rational decision-making part of her brain doesn’t stand a chance against Charlotte kissing her in the elevator, though. It’s soft and gentle and she can feel Charlotte smiling against her lips. Becky kisses her back just as the elevator doors open._

_“To the chapel,” Charlotte says, pulling away slowly._

_Becky blinks a few times, then shakes her head to clear it. “To Elvis!” she says gleefully, seizing Charlotte’s hand and pulling her down the hall._

_“No!” Charlotte yells, laughing._

_Elvis, it turns out, is pretty chill about the prospect of marrying a couple of ladies at 1:30 AM. Becky figures a Vegas Elvis has probably seen some wild shit._

_They have to wait for one other couple and they take the time to send a selfie to Bayley and Sasha._

_They’re still laughing and taking pictures with Becky’s phone when their names are called. She hands it to an employee. “Take our picture, yeah?”_

_As they walk up to the altar, Charlotte looks at her hesitantly, like maybe she’s waiting for Becky to back out. In this moment, Becky’s never been more sure of anything in her entire life._

_Elvis asks them for their vows. Becky blanches, but Charlotte seems confident._

_“You’re my girl, always,” says Charlotte. Her eyes are so soft that Becky wants to cry. “Everything’s better with you there. Everything_ matters _more with you there. I don’t… there’s nothing I wanna do without you. Especially this.”_

_“Fuck, Charlie,” says Becky. “Just… you’re the most important person in my life, you know? I love you.”_

_“I love you too,” says Charlotte. It’s the softest thing Becky’s ever heard._

_Elvis tells them to kiss and they sign some papers and just like that, they’re married._

_Charlotte’s quiet on the elevator ride back up and Becky can’t figure out how to break the silence. She settles for reaching for Charlotte’s hand instead. Charlotte smiles softly, pulling Becky closer. Becky leans back against her chest, warm and content, until they reach their floor._

_“Becks,” Charlotte says once they’re back in their room. “This will still be real tomorrow, right?”_

_Becky smiles and tugs Charlotte towards the bed. “Can’t imagine anything more real than this,” she says, reaching out to touch Charlotte’s face._

_Becky has no idea what tomorrow will bring but as Charlotte backs her up against the bed and kisses her, Becky’s positive that nothing about this could possibly be wrong._

 

 

“Honestly, we have no idea,” Charlotte says, taking the reins. Becky’s grateful. “A little too much to drink, a lot of adrenaline, you know how it is. It won’t happen again, we promise.”

“Well,” says Vince, and something about the look on his face makes Becky’s heart sink. “I wouldn’t go that far. In fact, we had something quite the opposite in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](https://sasskick.tumblr.com/) come talk to me about how I'm obsessed with them


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